Visual Journey 53

Letting In Light

Simply bound pamphlet stitch books, tea and coffee dyed, ink, assorted papers.

I hope this week finds you well and that you have settled into the middle point between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. We celebrated with a backyard bonfire.

I wrote the following poem during a quiet moment of looking back—at all the ways life has broken me open, and how I’ve come to live with those fractures. There are moments when it all breaks apart, and somehow, we remain. This is one of those stories—told not with certainty, but with presence.

An offering from the middle of the journey. If this resonates with you please share your thoughts in the comments.

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This Time, the Light Stayed

There were times in my life

when it felt like a hand

reached through my chest,

gripped my heart,

shook it—

and squeezed.

Unending, relentless.

I would stop,

gag,

tremble.

And for weeks,

or months,

or years,

my heart kept beating—

sore,

bruised,

unwilling to stop.

Initiations

into becoming more of who I truly am.

I didn’t know it then—

but I was learning

how to know myself.

Transforming.

Opening,

closing—

closing again,

but this time,

with scars.

Remembering.

Forgetting.

And still,

I went on.

Now,

it seems the hand

has reached deeper—

past my beating heart—

torn straight through my ribs.

This time,

it came through my back,

cracking bone,

splitting muscle.

Now there’s a hole—

and it lets the light in.

Each day it opens,

closes a little,

but always,

the light finds its way through.

And the heart—

it beats on,

despite the broken skin,

steady.

Strong.

I am light-filled now,

and broken.

Fractured,

but not lost.

And when the hand returns—

when the squeeze comes—

I can be with the pain,

understand its purpose,

welcome its presence.

Now allowed to go anywhere,

I no longer leave

the worn and weathered refuge of my body—

I arrive within it.

Running and fixing,

searching for more and better,

never worked.

I found

the broken places

were keeping all the treasures.

I stayed with the knowing—

and found the truth.

Painful processes

of falling apart

and falling away—

to find renewal,

to live within.

**

My watercolor tutorial this week is inspired by the ducks that visit our creek out back. I have been seeing more of them now that the weather is warming up. They look so content swimming around among all the trees and dandelions (I added extra dandelions because I’m imagining the thousands that will soon arrive!)

Steady Steps of A Duck and Roots & Dandelions.

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Some of My Favorite Things From This Week

A meditation by

Jack Kornfield

from a few years ago, still so relevant today.

A Steady Heart- https://insig.ht/5u1dU1kX0Sb

**

Gift of the Red Bird-A spiritual Encounter, By Paula D’Arcy. I’ve read this incredible memoir of courage and love more than once. Always more to be learned every time I pick it up.

http://www.redbirdfoundation.com/the-red-bird

**

The heart we found on our walk.

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Coming soon on Wildly Made Spirit: A heartfelt conversation with

Matthew Long

— retired naval officer, writer, and book collector living in rural western Tennessee. Through personal stories we explore how creativity and community can become powerful pathways to healing from trauma.

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So much gratitude for your comments and emails, hearts and restacks. They are what push our creative connection out and into a larger space. We really never know the full impact of our collective energy. It is helping so many, in different ways and at different times. Thank you.

In Love, Light, and Shadow

XXX

Writing and Art ©️Charlene Lutz